


Flexible

by three8y



Series: Bandit [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Sex, Bottom Gavin Reed, Crack, Don't Try This At Home, Enemies to Lovers, Face-Fucking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fanart, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gavin needs to redeem himself, M/M, NSFW Art, Pining, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Undercover as a Couple, auto-fellatio, auto-fellatio-fellatio, but now i'm not so sure, connor's dick helps, if you can call it that, more fanart, one sided that is, that's right folks i invented a new sex position, this started as crack, this started as crack this ends as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/three8y/pseuds/three8y
Summary: Connor has a sex drive. Gavin can't cope. Or can he?





	1. A Revelation

I sat in the police car and rolled my eyes. Fuck, why is the universe always out to get me? Not only had Fowler paired me up with that plastic prick, now that fuckin' Anderson was on paid leave to sober up and get his life in order (ha, yeah, as if that would happen). No, now that that fuckin' piece of plastic is apparently “human” Fowler had told me I had to atone for my behavior towards it. Hence, me being on taxi duty, fetching my “partner” to drive us both to our latest crime scene.

I left the car and walked up the driveway to Andersons small house. Detective Barbie was now living with the old geezer, like father and son, what a happy family. I shook my head and rapped on the door.

After a short while Anderson opened. The old fart really looked sober and cleaned up with his neatly cropped beard and tied back hair.

“Detective”, Hank Anderson greeted me curtly. “You're two hours early for your shift. An emergency?”

“Double homicide in Woodbridge, if you must know. Can you fetch your... roomie for me, now. Please.” I manage to stay civil, I must be a fuckin' saint.

“Go get him yourself, Detective. Up the stairs, second door on the left”, Anderson answers with a fake smile. Bastard. 

I enter and make my way up the stairs, while Anderson disappears into what looks like their kitchen. A quick glance around tells me that Anderson must really be sobering up. It's homey, it's clean – it's nice. Second door on the left he said.

He has to be fuckin' kiddin'.

CONNOR

It says in bold, bright blue letters on the door. Like a kids room, like the piece of plastic is really his son. Fuckin' weird, but oddly fitting, them two is nuts, if you ask me.  
I raise my hand to rap on the door, when I hear something. A faint moan. A bed spring creaking. WTF? Is Barbie dreaming of electric sheep? Does he sleep now, too? Like a real boy?

I press my ear to the door. Definitely more creaking. Slurping? What's going on here? I put my eye to the keyhole to peer inside, privacy be damned, it's Detective Plastic, what can he...

Holy shit.

THIS CAN NOT BE TRUE.

But I know it is, that image is burned on my retina. I linger for a moment, dumbstruck. Then I storm down the stairs.

“Is Connor not coming with you?”, Anderson asks from the kitchen, a mug in his hand. 

“Oh, he's coming alright! I'll wait in the car. YOU tell your little deviant to get decent and dressed. Fuckin' unbelievable!” I yell and storm outside.

I sit behind the wheel my heart racing, my thoughts racing even more. Since when can he ... why has he … oh, god, why does my body betray me – that – is definitely not MY hardon … I hate the fucker … how can I look him in the eye again … 

And so on … and so on … like a ferris wheel.

When the fucker walks through the door and to my car, thankfully my dick has calmed down again. But I'm still livid.

“How nice of you to deign me with your presence, “Detective”. Glad you could spare the time to do your job”, I spit out.

“Good Morning to you, too, Detective Reed”, he greets me. “Shall we?”

Oh, fine, let's both ignore that I saw him doing … that. Or does he really not know I saw him with a prick in his mouth ... stop thinking about … god, that image … 

I clear my throat. “Morning”, I mumble, belatedly remembering that Fowler commanded me to be civil or else I'll get fired. Brave new world.

I refrain from addressing the deviant til we get to the scene. An officer leads us to the victims. My “partner” analyses the scene in front of us: Two males, one blond, one brown haired, both stabbed in the stomach. Then he leans down to put his fingers in the blood that's pooled around the blonde, and, sure as hell, puts his finger in his mouth.

The blood rushes to my cheeks, I know exactly what's been in that mouth before.

“Lester Klein, 26 years old, unemployed”, Plastic says, unfazed.

“I, uh, left something in the car... “, I lie. I still can't get over Connor..., still can't get over the sight of that plastic prick doing THAT.

It's disgusting, or so I tell myself. I'm a bad liar.

I hide in the car, until he comes back from the scene.

“Have you found what you were missing, Detective Reed?” He gets in and closes the door. I mumble something. “Second victim was Mark Dewlin, age 28, also unemployed. They were regulars at the local soup shelter, so it's safe to assume both were homeless. No drugs found in their system though, well groomed, I think they were both trying to find a job again, get 'back on track', as you say. I suggest we get back to the precinct, and wait for the coroners report.”  
He's silent, but only briefly. Damn will this car ride never end?

“I noticed you have some unfinished reports. I could help you with that, Detective.”

“Don't need your help”, don't want it either, I think.

The rest of the ride he's silent.

Good, I tell myself.


	2. A Visit

Somehow I must have made it through the day and now I'm, thankfully, back in my apartment. I've stripped to my boxers and lie in front of the telly with beer and pizza. Unsurprisingly, there's nothing worth watching on, so I can feel my eyes falling shut.

I'm almost asleep, when my doorbell rings and wakes me up.

The fuck is visiting this late?

When I open the door it's the last person I want to see right now. If you can call that thing a person.  
Connor Anderson, my worst nightmare.

“The fuck do you want?”

“May I come in, Detective?”

I don't wanna make a scene for the neighbors. “Make it quick”, I say gruffly, and step back so he can enter. I close the door behind him and lead the way to the living room, where the telly is still running. 

“So?”

He's standing next to my messy sofa, prim an proper, and I can almost feel the speech coming.

“Detective Reed, in order for two policemen to cooperate productively, there's got to be at least some sort of accord between the two of them. You, on the contrary, are behaving very hostile when I am concerned. I concluded this is not good for our working relationship. In order to alleviate the situation I analyzed your behavior and took your vitals...”

“You did what?”

“I took your vitals. Such as heart rate, respiration, pupil movement... and I noticed an increased blood flow to your genitalia, each time you were in my vicinity. I was confused because your hostile behavior towards me doesn't correspond with you getting an erection and obviously wanting to have intercourse with me. You seem to believe I am opposed to this, so you react hostile. I, however, am not opposed at all, therefore I conclude only one logical solution. I came to your apartment, so we can have sex.”

I'm speechless, I can only gape like a fish.  
The plastic must have blown a fuse or something, this is absolutely unbelievable.

He stares at me unerringly for another second or two, then he begins to undress. What the fuck, does he think my flabbergasted silence means I second his crazy plan?

“Now, wait a minute”, I croak, my mouth has suddenly gone very, very dry, because the little efficient tincan is already pulling his trousers down and going commando nonetheless.

God, that's a beautiful cock, I catch myself thinking. Already almost fully erect his prick has a blue-ish tint to it, courtesy of the thirium fueling it.

He's taking the rest of his clothes of, draping them neatly over my sofa, then he steps in front of me and grips the waistband of my boxers, not pulling them down, just keeping his hands there.

“May I?” He asks for permission.  
I'm already so hard it hurts. And everything he said about me was true. I do want him. I treat almost everyone like shit, and I hate him with a vengeance, but I still want him.

“Do it”, I whisper. This situation is too fucking surreal.

Next thing I know, I'm naked and he's kneeling in front of me, gazing up towards me with his unbelievably innocent looking eyes, while he's holding my cock at the root, planting wet kisses on the tip.  
Then he swallows my length whole, no gag-reflex whatsoever, and starts bobbing his head up and down my length. God, he's good.  
Yeah, he's obviously had practice, a nasty part of my brain whispers. But soon there's no room for thought anymore. It's been a while, therefore I don't last long at all. I don't warn him, I want him to swallow my cum, all of it, want a little part of me to be forever part of him.  
And he indulges me, obediently licks me clean afterwards, too. So good, my knees buckle, and he keeps me upright effortlessly with his superhuman strength and reflexes.

What's he doing now?

He's standing up, hoisting me up, into his arms, carrying me to the nearest wall.  
That's his arm putting my legs behind his back, that's his other arm, steadying himself against the wall, that's his tongue, seeking my mouth, that's his dick, probing my entrance. 

'Lube!?', I think frantically, when the tip of him is already slipping inside of me, artificial, slippery like no human dick would be. Resourceful little android, I think, and then I give up on thinking again, because Connor hits my prostate with machine like precision, who would have thought? When he comes inside me, will I be dripping blue?

I start to fatten up, can I come again? Only his cock inside me, and his hot tongue I my mouth? Well, I think giddy, I can at least try.

And... my damn alarm wakes me from the lewdest dream I've had in years. I'm alone on my sofa, the telly's still on, there's a crick in my neck and my boxers are glued to my balls with my own semen. Fucking perfect.

At least now I can leave my spot on the banks of the nile, man up and admit to myself that I wanna fuck an android.

Fantastic.

Bloody marvelous.


	3. An Assignment

The next morning in the precinct Captain Fowler orders me inside his office. We have to decide what we'll do in the Dewlin/Klein murder case.

When I enter his office, aside from the Captain there is a blond man I've never seen before. Cop? Lawyer? Guess I'll see. 

“Captain. What do you have for me?”

“Sit down Reed. There is news in the Dewlin/Klein case. The victims knew each other, they were in fact lovers. It is true they both had no residence, but were living in the homeless shelter. It seems they met each other there. Our problem is that we found no other leads, and forensics can't help us either. There's only one option left before we terminate the investigation. We can bring in two officers who'll investigate the case undercover, posing as lovers. If the murderer's motive has anything to do with them being homosexual, it will hopefully lure him into action.

“And who should go undercover?” I ask.

“You and Connor, of course.”

“No way!”

I can't go with him undercover! As a couple!

Then I have the saving idea. “It's impossible because since the revolution everyone knows Connor's face. It would blow our cover immediately. I could do it, but only with another partner.”

Suddenly the blond guy speaks up: “You are completely right. Connor's face is much to well known. Therefor myself and Captain Fowler decided, that you'll go undercover with me.”

What a relief! To play pretend with Connor, to be with him 24 hours a day, to be near him, to caress, maybe even kiss him would be a bit to much for me after yesterday's revelation. I've got to come to terms with my feelings first, especially because Connor sure as hell doesn't feel like me. No wonder, the way I treated him. The stranger holds out his hand with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Detective Reed. My name is Connor Anderson.”

My hand freezes mid-shake. 

“What???”

The blond man's skin ripples away, white plastic shows underneath. Then the skin begins to form anew. This time the man in front of me is dark-haired and doe-eyed. It's Connor.

“I can make slight changes to all of my facial features, Detective. Together with a different haircolor the disguise should be sufficient. After all, you did not recognize me.”

I can not think of an intelligent response. No argument that would speak against our undercover assignment, except that I will suffer. And I can not tell that to either the captain or the android.

Just my luck.

“Then, I guess, we are all clear.” Captain Fowler dismisses us both.

I walk out of his office, while a sinking feeling is blooming inside of me: those two have played me, and I am fucked.

“Can we go somewhere private, Detective?” Connor asks me. “Interrogation room two is currently empty.”

“Sure?” I'm still flustered and let him lead the way to the room without arguing.

He closes the door behind us, and says: “Detective Reed, in order for us to cooperate productively on this assignment, there's got to be at least some sort of accord between the two of us. You are still behaving hostile when I am around.”

What the fuck? Am I dreaming again? I pinch myself. Ouch! No, definitely awake.

“Strangers, and foremost the unknown suspect have to believe that we are a couple. I think we should practice intimate gestures, such as holding hands and kissing.”

I'm speechless. But of course, he's right. We have to play a convincing couple or the suspect will make us as cops in an instant and this case will never be solved.

He steps closer to me. “Can I hold your hand?”

What I don't understand is, that he even wants to do this assignment with me, after I treated him like shit the whole time he's been paired up with me. Guess Connor is the better “man” of us.

He takes my hand in his. “Oh, I forgot”, he says. His artificial skin ripples again, and a few seconds later it's blondie holding my hand. Now that I know it is in fact Connor, I can see that the changes itself are in fact minuscule, but altogether they form a different face, a different man. I can pretend it's not Connor - at least not the Connor that I want to fuck. 

He brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses it. It's just a quick peck, but still I start to blush. It's weird, but I catch myself thinking that I want him to go on, do more, take things further.

I'm red-faced and sweating like a pig. He just smiles at me, all cool and collected. 

“I don't think hand-holding will be a problem. I will kiss you now.”

And he does. Boy, does he. I've expected a quick peck on the lips, again, like with the hand. Instead his hand goes round my neck to pull my face into his. And then he kisses me like he really means to. Like I'm not his asshole partner who's barely civil to him at the best of times. But like he could think of nothing in the would that would bring him more joy.

At least that is how I feel. My hands grab his face of their own accord, wanting to deepen the kiss I open my lips to let my tongue play with his.

“99.5% water, various enzymes and electrolytes within normal parameters. Your body temperature is slightly elevated, but an analysis of your saliva shows no signs of infection. You are completely healthy Detective Reed.”

Sexy like a like a bucket of ice-cold water.

“I think we'll ace our assignment, Detective”, he says lightly and leaves me standing alone in that damn interrogation room.  
Flushed, aroused and completely confused.

Fuck my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as complete crack (with porn), now it's somehow something with a semblance of plot (some plot at least).  
> I would love to hear what you think. And please forgive my mistakes, I am not a native speaker.


	4. A Chapter without a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god an update  
> any resemblance to existing homeless shelters is purely coincidental  
> grammar is more of what you'd call guidelines than actual rules  
> connor and gavin apparently solve crimes with their dicks

I hate my life.

Not only did I get paired up with the most oblivious, born sexy yesterday dipshit in the whole fuckin' universe, but for our undercover assignment I have to wear the scratchiest, most ill-fitting clothes the station could find in my size. I strongly suspect someone there holds a grudge...

They gave us both a variety of used clothes, but thankfully they allowed us to wear our own underwear. Except Detective Plastic didn't wear any and had to go shopping, and I did NOT need the information that Connor had been going commando under his pristine suits all the time.

Speak of the devil, Connor looks even more like a regular boy next door now that he's taken his LED out. You can easily mistake him for human. He's assumed the disguise he already had in Fowler's office, but that voice, that body language. I could discern Connor in a million guys.

Apart from the ratty clothes, they gave us fake ID's, some pocket change and cheap cells, and sent us off to the homeless shelter. Home sweet home is now a large room full of bunk beds, cosy as a gymn, damp and mouldy, smelling of unwashed armpits and dirty socks. Someone should report this health hazard. 

The head of the facility knows about our undercover assignment, of course. She took us to her office, wished us good luck and gave us the keys to our lockers, where we can put our meagre belongings, gave us sleeping sheets and told us the numbers of our beds. Connor was delighted to learn we get to sleep in bunk beds and wanted to get on top. Fine by me.

We can eat breakfast and dinner at the shelter. Alcohol and drugs are not allowed on the premises (as if you could stand it sober here), and are a reason to be kicked out.

So far our assignment is going good, great, just peachy. We've only been here for a few hours, but the fact that we have a relationship is already well established. Turns out you only need one idiot cop (yours truly), his jealousy, and a communal shower. Here's what happened: In the evenings we are strongly encouraged to clean ourselves up before dinner. In fact it's a NO shower, NO dinner policy. Which seems a bit harsh, until you get a whiff of your fellow residents.

Connor and me didn't really need the shower, as we just came to the shelter in the late afternoon, but we participated anyway, to keep up the semblance that we had been out on the filthy streets of rundown Detroit all day. And I was starting to feel hungry, too.

So I found myself standing very naked with a very naked Connor and a bunch of very naked other guys waiting in line to get our shower over with. Some wore their towels modestly around their hips – as did I. But some were flaunting their stuff, and in case of one guy, not completely unjustified. I've had my share of communal showers in High School and at the Police Academy and am proud to say I've turned subtly checking out into an art form. Admiration of the male body. Purely academic.

So, that was what I was planning to do today, too, when it hit me. That was supposed to be my boyfriend. Wouldn't it be suspicious if I treated him with indifference? Surely no-one would completely ignore their significant other even in the publicity of a communal shower. Or would they? How should I behave? Oh fuck, I was going to blow our cover on the first day.

Men were coming out of the shower, and it soon was our turn. The facility was every bit as disgusting as I had assumed. He took me by the arm and steered us both into a corner.

“Can I borrow your shampoo?” Connor asked. “ I forgot to bring mine.”  
I hadn't looked much at him before, waiting in line, but I had to look at him now. Connor's naked body was beautiful, I didn't think he had altered its appearance at all. Male beauty incarnate. But his flawless skin also was in contrast of my own imperfections, my scars and my too short legs. Suddenly, I became very shy and could feel myself blushing. What the hell? I've been with my share of beautiful men. Why should an android get me all hot and bothered. Fuck!

Double fuck! When I look up I see a big black dude so blatantly checking out my... Connor, I can feel my blood starting to boil. I may not be able to cope with my lust for my partner, but I'm more than happy to give in to my fury. After all, rage is my second nature and comes as natural to me as breathing.

I'm sure I must look ridiculous when I storm over to the guy and, in lieu of a greeting, shove him backwards into the shower wall. Close up, I can see he's in fact not two heads taller than me. It's more two and a half.

“Stop ogling my boyfriend, dipshit!” I spit in his face.

“What the fuck, man?” The big guy shoves me back with just one hand. “No need to get handsy, you just had to say he's taken.” He shakes his head. “You gotta do something about that attitude, seems you get into fights often. And lose.” He smirks.

I'm almost in his face again. But Connor comes to my side and holds me back by the arm. “I apologize on behalf of my boyfriend. I'm Connor.” Connor holds out his hand and big guy shakes it. Two naked men shaking hands in the shower, surreal. Then he pulls me back into our corner. “Wash that shampoo out of your hair, honey,“ he remarks a little bit too loud, “we're on the clock here.” To me, he whispers: “Good job.”

Good job? Really? I almost got beaten into a bloody pulp for running my big mouth yet again. I couldn't have known that the black man was a gentle giant. I endangered our mission. And I almost gave my crush away. Connor can never know how I feel. If he knew, he wouldn't make fun of me. But he would pity me. I can't imagine that he likes me too. Not after that accurate, detached analysis of my saliva.  
Connor has a mission, and I only happen to be the tool to help him complete it. Nothing more. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shortly after I made a fool of myself it's time to eat. Still lost in my own thoughts I get in line to get a tray, cutlery and what turns out to be the most disgusting meal of my life. Even Police Academy hadn't been that bad.  
Connor whispered in my ear that he still didn't need to eat, but could process a small amount of food without damaging his machinery. Honestly, noone would get suspicious if Connor wouldn't eat up. I ate half of my portion, but as soon as the hunger was satiated, the disgust kept me from eating more.

Soon after, everyone went to the dorm room, because it would be lights out as early as 9pm. We should get a good nights sleep, with breakfast being as early as 6am. Or at least that was the idea. I was bound to have some sleepless hours, because I can't recall going to bed early than 11pm, even on a workday.

Lucky Connor. He could at least go online and do what androids did instead of sleeping. Or he could get into standby mode and actually get a good nights “sleep”. Well, at least one of us would rise and shine in the morning.

Connor happily jumps into the bunk above me, which gives a horrible creak. How much do Androids weigh anyway? And can I get crushed to death in my sleep, so we can end this farce before I make a total fool of myself?

Lights out. It's pitch black until my eyes adjust somewhat. At first I hear nothing out of the ordinary. Just belching and farting all over the place. Some guys are snoring already, those are the lucky ones I guess.

Then I hear it. Creaking beds, rustling sheets and soft moaning. People are – entertaining each other. I guess that solves the nightly boredom problem. I roll onto the side and stuff my pillow into my ears, trying desperately to go to sleep. No such luck.

Then I hear the bed above me creaking again. The bed rattles and suddenly there's someone next to me on my mattress. I turn abruptly, expecting an attack, but it's just Connor.

“Gavin,” he whispers. “People are having sex all around us.”

I groan, but not in the good way. “So I noticed. Go back to sleep, or download the Encyclopedia Britannica, or something.” I whisper back.

“But people around us are having sex.”

“And?”

“We should, too.”

“W-what?” I stutter. 

“People think we are together, wouldn't they find it odd if we didn't engage in sexual intercourse?”

“No, I guess they'd find it oddly refreshing,“ I say sarcastically.

“I don't understand.”

“Connor, we can't have sex just like that.”

In the dim light I can see Connor vacantly staring into space. If he still wore his LED I guess it would be whirring right now.

“I agree. We lack the necessary supplies like lubrication.” So much for the self-lubricating dick-dream, a crazy part of my brain tells myself. “But there are many non-penetrative alternatives we can engage in.”

“Absolutely not, Connor.”

“Oh. I see. I am very sorry. I didn't know you find the thought of touching me sexually so appalling. I will go to my own bunk, now.”

I freeze for I sec, then I can feel my brain kicking myself in the proverbial butt. My hand seizes Connors wrist, just as he gets up to go back to his own bed. “No.”

He stops, waits. “No, I'm not appalled in the least, Connor. I know I was an ass, and I treated you like a... thing. But I've changed my mind about you androids being alive. I just don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you.”

“Why? It's just sex.”

It's just sex. So that's how Connor sees it. Like I said before. He has his mission. I'm just the tool to help accomplish it.  
I'm not sure what makes me guide the wrist I'm still holding so that his hand rests on my dick, but the feeling sure isn't a happy one. More the bleak realization, that this is all that I will ever get from him, and that I'm desperate enough to take it.

My voice breaks a little when I whisper, “Do what you want, but kiss me.”

He looks at me and smiles. “Thank you, Gavin, your cooperation is much appreciated.”

Each of his words feels like a blow. But Connor, ever oblivious, simply starts kissing me. His fingers find the outline of my dick and his hand starts to stroke me through the soft material of my pajama pants. My dick, the traitor, doesn't care about my conflicted feelings and starts filling rapidly. Connor pulls the fabric down and there it is - his hand on my hard cock. I can feel Connor pressing his groin against my side, can feel his hard length rocking against me. Obviously he doesn't find me repulsive, either.  
I feel on fire, this could be heaven, if only it was real. I can feel a single tear running slowly down my cheek. I'm already close...  
No! If I'm just his tool, the plastic prick can fucking work for it! I break the kiss.

“I changed my mind,” I say with a malicious grin. “Blow me!”

He smiles at me, oblivious to my bitterness, and obediently moves between my legs. He takes my chubby length into one hand, my balls into the other and starts licking me like a lollipop. His tongue swirls around my head, delves into my slit. Does he analyze my precome?

“No, not like that. I wanna fuck your mouth.”

I reach down and take his head into my hands. “Relax,” I say. Then I simply push my hips up. Hard, then harder. Push my dick into his mouth, deep down his throat, without any finesse and certainly not considering his pleasure. It's not like he needs the air anyway. 

I push his head hard into my groin and push my dick deep inside once more. I come groaning, but it's just physical release and I feel hollow even before my dick slips out of his abused mouth.

He wipes his chin and mouth and slides back up, tries to kiss me again and takes my hand to lay it on his own hard, impossibly hot dick. “Please, Gavin,” he pants into my ear.

I free my hand and turn around, away from him. “Take care of that yourself, I'm going to sleep.” 

His hands freeze and he stops caressing my body, then I hear him climbing into his bunk, but I don't hear the rhythmic slapping of a hand against a cock, nor him panting or climaxing.  
I toss and turn. I will not sleep that night.


	5. A Knife in the Dark

“Shit! Fuck!”

My body hurts like a motherfucker. How did I get here? Someone must have drugged me, because I have no memory of the last hours and I sure as fuck don't know how I got into this dark basement, chained on wrists and ankles, and hung up like a pig to be slaughtered. I'm not gagged. If my captor didn't bother to silence me, that means I'm so far away from other people, no one will hear me scream. 

“Good Morning, Detective Reed,” says someone from the darkness. “You've been out for quite some time. Glad you're with us again. Wouldn't want you to miss all the fun.”

It's a female voice. I can hear her slowly approaching steps, and when she leaves the cover of darkness, it's – the shelters director. How trite. But why didn't someone, anyone, have her on the list of suspects?

“Nice of you and your partner to tell us all about your investigation.”

She motions to my left, and when I turn my gaze I can see Connor hanging there in a similar fashion. Only he still seems to be unconscious. How peculiar. They drugged me, but drugs shouldn't have worked on him.

“I'm curious, are you two together for real, or does your dedication to an undercover assignment really go this far? My, my, what a spectacle you made, fucking that poor boys throat. He must really like you, to let you use him like that.”

She spied on us, probably has the whole building under surveillance. I can feel my face heating, and my blood boiling from the rage and shame. “You fucking sick bitch!”

She only laughs. ”I'm afraid, you will be the next, and incidentally, our last victims. Here in Detroit, that is. Let's just say the police came a little bit to close to the truth for my taste. But there's poverty all across our beautiful country, so many homeless, so much need for shelter...”  
She flashes me an ugly grin, then she unsheathes a big and very sharp looking knife.

“Why homosexuals?” Even in this dire situation, the detective in me wants to know, to solve the case, even if it won't do me any good, save than stall for time.

She laughs. “I don't care which sex they are. As long as they don't... They are scum. The lowest of the low!” Now she almost screeches. “They have nothing and they deserve nothing, least of all love!”

“Not, when you can't have it, you mean.”

That must have hit a little too close to home. She takes the knife and, in a backwards motion, whacks the hilt across my face.” I can feel something has started to bleed, though thankfully she didn't break my nose. 

“Careful, Laura, that thing's sharp. Wouldn't want you to cut yourself.” Another voice from the shadows, this time male. The bitch said “we” so this must be her accomplice. If there's just the one. 

Troubling is, I know that voice from somewhere. But the man keeps himself obscured by the shadows.

“I hate to cut your playtime short, but we should just do away with them quickly this time. After we moved, you can take your time again. It's getting a bit too hot here in Detroit for my taste.”

“Better safe than sorry?” She looks in the direction of the voice. “Alright detective, your smart ass remarks grate on my nerves. Say bye-bye.”

This time I can see in her eyes that the bitch won't use just the hilt. With an ugly grin, she positions herself in front of me and swings the knife back to stab it deep into my gut. “I'll die!” I think, freezing up, awaiting the final blow...

...that never comes.

Connor rams into her, bringing me out of the danger zone of her knife, but the angry bitch is fast. She abruptly turns, trying to stab the knife into his gut instead. Trying, succeeding, waiting for Connor to go down, blood and guts spilling from the large wound in his stomach.

Her triumphant grin fades slowly, when there is no blood, no gore, no death, just a pissed off Connor who charges at her, and, with an almost casual move, snaps her neck.

We may have told her way too much about our investigation, but we never told her one of us was an Android. A deviant who played possum, just to free himself in the nick of time and safe my life. 

Connor turns to face the shadows, there's still at least one threat.


	6. A Room with a View

Connor disappeared inside of the shadows, and as much as I strain my eyes, I can't see what's happening. I can hear the sounds of fighting, struggling, another knife falling to the ground when suddenly there's shooting. I flinch, instinctively trying to make myself small, so as to not get hit, but I can barely move, chained up as I am. Another shot rings dangerously near me and I see the blood before the pain even registers. When it kicks in, I can't concentrate on my surroundings anymore. I can just hope Connor wins. 

I jerk when a body crashes down next to my feet. It's the gentle giant. His neck is broken, his head resting at an unnatural angle, night vision goggles on his eyes. So that's why he could fight in the dark. Connor steps back into the light, his face badly scratched. His left arm got shot off, it seems, the stump dripping blue and he's limping slightly. But he's alive. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

The blood has started flowing copiously from the wound in my arm and I'm already feeling lightheaded. My body starts to shake. I won't make it. I'm in shock and I won't make it out of this goddamned cellar alive. But before I'm done, I will get one last thing done.

“Connor, I'm sorry for earlier. I'm... I'm,” my teeth are chattering horribly, I'm so cold.

“It's ok Gavin, we'll get out of here.”

With only one working hand Connor struggles to get me out off the chains. Finally he just rips them out of the ceiling and the floor, then hoists me over his shoulder. “It's a long way out of this cellar, but we'll make it!” Who is he trying to assure? Connor is strong, but he's staggering under my weight, each step slow and careful.

Then suddenly there's light again, noises, voices far too loud and I gain enough consciousness to realize that we're outside and paramedics and police are surrounding us. The paramedics are working on me, Connor is by my side and I can feel myself groping for his arm, then I start to babble something that doesn't seem to make much sense, given the reaction of the paramedic and the policemen around us.

Connor looks shaken.

Then the lights go out and I die.

*~*~*~

Except I only passed out it seems. See, I can't even die right. I'm hooked up to a bunch of monitors, and there's a drip next to my arm. Hopefully the good stuff. Next to my bed there's definitively the good stuff. Connor's sitting there, waiting for me to wake up. Why? Not that I don't want him to be there, but why would he want to be at my bedside?

“Hi,” I croak.

“Hello, Gavin.” His whole face lights up with a smile.

“Thirsty.”

He gets me a cup with a straw that was standing on my bedside table and helps me to get more upright. I drink greedily. Afterwards, I let myself sink back into the cushions. Then it hits me. Connor has two hands.

“See you've replaced the arm, that's handy.”

“Yes, the stomach plate, too. Though that was merely more than a graze to my side. I'm as good as new.”

Except he isn't. Connor is wearing his default face again, but there's a small, slightly blue tinged scar over his nose, where the giant got him. “What's with the scar?” I ask.

Suddenly Connor looks more than a bit nervous. “I... guess we could be a matched set. In case you still feel this way.”

Connor holds up a cell. A video of the scene before the shelter plays, shakily, from more than a few feet away, obviously shot by a nosy bystander, but the audio is surprisingly good quality. Where did he get that? Damned technology! I can see myself lying on the paramedics stretcher, holding my hand out. “Connor? ... my shite in neighing armor...” Then something unintelligible. “Love you...”

I let the short clip play through two more times. My face is burning, my heart is racing and my brain seems to have short circuited. “It's true,” I mumble quietly. I can't look him in the eyes.

“Why didn't you say something, Gavin? You treated me as if you were feeling just the opposite.”

I stay silent. What can I say?

“Lieutenant Anderson said it's, I quote 'because Reed couldn't find his ass with two hands, let alone identify his feelings for what they truly are, much less act on them'.”

“I'll fuckin' kill that old fart!” Ouch, shouting hurts like a bitch and helps me calm down instantly. “Also, I guess he's right...”

“You can't find your ass?”

I laugh weakly. “The other thing, I... you know....” Does he have to make me say that out loud? It's humiliating...

...except then it isn't, because he's kissing me and it's the best feeling in the world. After a second I start kissing him back, he has such soft, kissable lips, and my hands come up to touch him, only to get tangled in all that hospital stuff they put on and inside me.  
Apparently my heart rate monitor is objecting to that. It's rapid, loud beeping sends a nurse to my room, who informs Connor, not unkindly, that he has to give the patient some rest now.  
Actually I do feel really...

 

*~*~*~

 

It's been two weeks now, and I'm still on medical leave, when my boyfriend invites me home for dinner. I guess it can't be helped, Hank Anderson and I have to learn to get along now. Somehow. Kill me now.

Connor prepared chicken and salad, even went the extra mile and baked home-made rolls. It tastes heavenly, and the crazy old coot and I dig in, pretending to be much to busy with eating to have time to talk, while Connor tries and fails to get a conversation going. After he's finished, Anderson excuses himself pretty fast. He's going to take Sumo for a long walk he says. A very long walk, he says. “At least two hours,” he says, looking meaningfully at Connor. “You know how I feel about him.” He gestures at me.

“Hey!” I blurt out.

“But I respect your decision, Connor.” He hugs Connor, takes Sumo's leash and is gone before I can come up with an appropriate response. So much for that. I guess there will never be any love lost between the older Anderson and me.

Connor sighs. I bet he thought he could reconcile our differences tonight, and now he's visibly down.

“I'm sorry,” I say, “but we just don't get along, I guess. Maybe with time?” I try to sound sincere, even if I doubt Anderson and I will ever be anything more than civil to each other. But that little bit of hope seems enough for Connor. For now.

He's smiling again, coyly, from under his lashes. “If you're finished, would you like to see my room?”

I hasten to eat the last bites. “You bet,” I say, still munching. Sometimes I don't know what Connor sees in me, either.

Already kissing and groping, we go upstairs, to the door with the ridiculous letters on it. Connor opens it for me. Inside it's small, but cozy, with a myriad of small plants and a large fish tank in the corner. I didn't even know he liked them. 

“How do you feel? Did the doctor recommend anything?”

Huh, what does he mean? Oh. Oh! “He, umh, didn't object if you mean that...”

“Great!” And Connor resumes to enthusiastically kiss and grope me, undressing us both in the process. But, despite being incredibly turned on and not objecting in the least, I can't help but feel distracted by the things I saw the last time I was in this house, standing in front of Connor's door.

“Who was he?” I blurt out.

Connor looks a bit dazed and a lot confused. “Who was who?”

“The guy you were with when I picked you up to take you to the Dewlin-Klein crime scene.”

Connor looks incredibly confused now. I've never brought anyone else to this room but you, Gavin.”

“I saw you!” The ugly head of the green eyed monster is rearing up in me again. “At least have the decency not to lie about it. I saw you with another man's dick in your mouth!”

Connor looks shocked, then puzzled, then he has to fight to keep a straight face. “I'll show you the other man. Go outside my room, wait a minute, then peep through the keyhole. And for both our sanity I won't ask you why you spied on me in the first place.

I turn beet-red. I wanted to keep that to myself. Forever. Right.

Half undressed and incredibly ashamed I walk through his door, close it after me and bang my head on the wall. I'm such an idiot. If Connor kicks me out of his room, his house, his life, he's got every right to. “Stop hurting yourself, you don't want to pull those stitches, Gav.” I can hear Connor's muffled voice. He's right.

At first I hear nothing, then, like back then, I can hear the bed creaking. Hesitantly, I bend down to peer through the hole, only to be greeted with the same sight.

“PHUCKING SHIT!”

I push the door open with such force it bangs against the opposite wall. But there's no other man sticking his dick down my boyfriends throat. Connor's lying naked on his back. Impossibly bend in half, pleasuring himself. His lush lips wrapped around his beautiful cock, while his hips move in an eager rhythm. He's only able to fit the tip inside, but even so his flexibility is astounding, I'd most likely break my neck if I tried. 

Instantly, I'm rock-hard. Connor lets his dick slip free. “See?”

I do. “My god, do you know what you're doing to me?” I can't remember ever being this turned on in my life.

“Come here, Gavin.” He motions for me to kneel on the bed, while he stays in his position, just opens his legs impossibly wide. “There's room for one more,” he says.

Does he know what he says? He can't! Does he really mean what I think he's saying? I almost come in my pants and have to grab my balls and tug hard. With shaking hands, I pull my cock out. I swear to god his eyes light up at the sight and I can hear him moaning in anticipation. Pretty deviant.

I have to position myself somewhat awkwardly, my thighs next to his head, balancing above him and between his legs. It's cramped, it's weird, and if I indeed pull my stitches we'll have some explaining to do, but his first lick at my cock-head sends fire through my veins. His hand grabs my length and I bend just so he can get more of me inside of his hot, delicious mouth. Briefly, he lets go of my cock to push his own alongside mine, using his hand to keep us both in place. He moans, mouth too full to speak, but I guess that means I should get a move on... I try to push down a bit more.  
His mouth is a furnace, his cock and his hand a wonderful friction. I can feel my spine tingling, my arousal building, more from the depravity of the position than the actual amount of fucking. A few shallow thrusts more and I'm crying out my release, my cock spurting all over Connor's face, dick, balls and ass. I must have slipped out during my orgasm. I lean back, heart pumping furiously, gulping for air. If we do this too often, Connor will surely be the death of me.  
He's still at it and I grab my dick, pumping leisurely to wring the last aftershocks out, while I feast my eyes on the sight before me.  
With more room to work, he's gotten almost all of his dick inside his come-covered mouth. From here, I can see his pert little hole, clenching and un-clenching with the rhythm of his face-fucking. If I wasn't so thoroughly spent, I'd love to put my dick there. Instead I scoop up some of my semen and put a finger to his ass. Only rubbing for now, looking for permission in his face. His eyes have been on me the whole time, and when he gives a little nod, I push my finger inside of him, probing, searching and finding his prostate, while he comes shuddering beneath me.

I'm almost a bit disappointed that his semen is white instead of light blue. I stroke inside of him once, twice more, then he's spent. We entangle our bodies, and I finally get rid of my jeans, to join him under the covers, cuddling and kissing languidly. No one has to say a word, both our loads and minds are blown.

I forget the time, until I hear a noise downstairs, the old coot coming back from walking the dog. The small, creaky bed has a lumpy mattress, but Connor makes it warm, comfortable and perfect.

“Can I stay the night?” I ask.

“Stay forever,” he replies, and kisses me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, this came to a close. Connor and Gavin will live happily ever after, and I'm sure they'll have much fun. Hank will much likely suggest to them to move in together (someplace else) soon (his eyes, my god, his eyes).  
> Feedback of any kind is always appreciated, wanted and well-loved. Have a nice weekend!


End file.
